


A Heith Thing

by Velvedere



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Galra Keith (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, POV Hunk (Voltron), Power Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:46:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12113943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvedere/pseuds/Velvedere
Summary: Post season two, Keith is having a rough time adjusting to leadership of Team Voltron. And his Galra heritage starts making itself more physically known...





	1. Chapter 1

Hunk was tip-toeing past the training deck when he heard the sniffling. 

It wasn’t that he was afraid of the training deck. Well, he was a little afraid of it...but any sensible person would be. The training deck – along with most of the castle – could do some things that quite frankly broke his brain, and the last three times he’d been in there had involved intense bouts of physical pain and getting knocked around by a bunch of robots, so...yeah, he would just as soon avoid it. If the lights were on, it meant someone was in there. Which meant if they saw him wander by there was a good chance he would get roped into whatever simulation was currently going on, and it was late and all he really wanted to do was grab a warm glass of space juice and go relax in his bunk with some technical journals and—

The sound of someone sniffling made him stop. 

The entry way to the training room was wide open, spilling light into the dark hallway. Hunk had been out late (later than he'd meant to) working in the hangar. Ever since Pidge started translating some Altean technical manuals there had been no end to the things they were discovering about the Castle of Lions...or the lions themselves, for that matter. It was fascinating just reading about the basics of Altean technology from the fundamental concepts up and from there figuring out how to translate terms and theories they didn’t even have words for back on Earth. The principles they’d managed to work out of crystallic fusion alone—

It was Keith. Not that unusual in itself. He used the training deck a lot. (A LOT.) Maybe even moreso since Shiro disappeared. More than once Coran had bemoaned – loudly and in front of everyone – the amount of resources used up by the training deck just to churn out the amount of robots those training simulations demanded, since Keith seemed perfectly able to destroy the things as fast as the castle's automated systems could make them. It didn’t help that he refused to switch to holographic opponents, because they didn’t feel and react the same as physical ones, which – hey – Hunk could totally understand. He had a point. Slicing through metal would have given completely different tactile feedback as slicing through essentially nothing and Hunk didn’t care how good Altean tech was there was just no replicating those Galra drones with anything less than the real deal and—

Keith had his back to him as Hunk peeked around the barest edge of the entryway. He stood with his weight leaned to one side, sword in one hand. His other arm was just dragging over his face at the level of his eyes, and his shoulders were tight. They jerked a little as he sucked in a sharp breath. Quick. Like he was trying to bite down on it before it got too loud.

Hunk blinked, staring a little. 

Keith was...crying?

Around him scattered across the floor was the usual array of obliterated robots. Keith stood in the center of them, untouched, somehow apart, and for the space of a heartbeat Hunk was reminded of pictures he’d seen before of ancient battles. The kind were one single knight would be left among an array of slaughtered enemies, surveying the conquered landscape. The last man standing. 

Keith sniffed again. The breath he let out was a broken, raspy one.

Hunk felt his throat tighten, and his stomach lurched in protest even as his feet moved forward on their own, hearing his own voice come out as he said it:

“Uhh...hey.”

Keith jerked, his breath catching halfway through another wipe of his arm across his eyes. He spun around, his boots stumbling over each other, nearly tripping before he caught his balance again.

“—uwahh...Hunk?”

“Yeah! Hey. Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Him. Scare Keith. That was a good one.

Hunk scratched the side of his neck as he glanced awkwardly around the robot debris, wondering if Keith had just stubbed his toe on a random appendage, hence the waterworks. Keith wasn’t even bothering to try and hide the fact he’d been crying. His face was red. He looked at Hunk with his eyes still sharply crystal wet, his expression wide and open in that naked, bare kind of way. The way Keith sometimes looked when there was a social subtlety he missed in a group setting.

It was pretty endearing, actually, that the leader of Team Voltron could still sometimes be really oblivious to the simplest things.

_Is everything okay?_

The words tugged at Hunk’s lips, but he didn’t say them. Obviously everything wasn’t okay. What with Shiro being gone and Keith having to take over the black lion which everyone knew he really didn’t want to do, and even though they were all perfectly supportive and behind him one hundred percent there was always that perpetual sense of comparison. Like no one could really help thinking what Shiro would have done instead of Keith in a given situation. Also there was the whole half-Galra thing. Or maybe whole Galra? They didn’t know, and the Blades of Marmora were still being wonderfully vague and secretive on the whole matter. So, yeah, that was probably a lot of stress to deal with on top of everything else and Hunk really couldn’t blame him. He would have been down here killing robots too if—

“So…uhh, what’cha doing?”

That was a better question. Keith just kind of stared blankly in response, but at least he didn’t have to insist he was fine for the thirty-seven thousandth time.

Keith looked away from him, despondent as he dropped his eyes down to the scattering of robots.

“Just…training,” he mumbled, and wiped his arm over his eyes one more time.

“Oh.”

Hunk flinched internally again, aware of an overwhelming sense of awkwardness. What was he supposed to do? Keep on like nothing was out of the ordinary? Give him a hug? Say something comforting? That’s what Shiro would have done. If Lance had been there, he would have known what to say. Maybe not the best thing, but at least something to diffuse the tension. Pidge would have just shrugged and walked away.

Allura probably would have given him a hug.

Hunk had always thought he was fairly okay when it came to dealing with people, but Keith was…

Well.

He was Keith.

Ever since their road trip that ended up with crawling around inside the digestive system of a giant weblum, Keith had taken on a new level of awesome as far as Hunk was concerned. Everyone knew Keith had always been smart and fast and capable, but the way he rose to the challenge on that one – the way he was the one calming and talking Hunk down in their darkest, ickiest time of need – just made it all the more obvious why Shiro had left him in charge. Keith wasn’t as unapproachable as he appeared to be on first glance, but trying to comfort him now when he seemed to be the one doing it for the rest of them was like…it was like…

It would have been like trying to comfort and reassure Shiro.

There. Hunk was doing it again.

“Okay! Well, I’ll just let you get back to that.” Hunk spun sharply on the toe of his boot, hiding his face under a cloud of shame and guilt as he turned to go, waving one hand over his shoulder without looking. “Don’t mind me. Have fun…uhh…decimating.”

Internally he groaned.

He made a beeline for the hoverlift. Hunk kept his eyes down, punching the button repeatedly on the wall panel as if that would make the doors open faster so he could get out of there. He could feel Keith’s eyes on his back – or maybe he was imagining it – and it made his neck prickle and his heart pump loud with that looming sense of something being off. Like when a machine just wasn’t working right. Nothing obviously wrong. No warning lights. But you could still tell.

He glanced back once as the doors opened, and he stepped inside, just in time to see Keith moving away from his pile of robots and pushing a hand back through his hair, tossing it out of his face.

“…training level six…” he heard Keith say, right before the doors closed again with a hiss.

Hunk let out the long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and sagged against the wall.

For the first time in his life, he felt like a real coward.

He stood there for a while in the still lift, not giving it any commands for where to go, his head hanging and trying to think of what he could say or do as an excuse to go back out there.

Then, he had an idea.

He punched the up command on the hoverlift’s console, but didn’t stop at the level of the crew bunks.

He went to the galley instead.

*****

When Hunk came back, it looked like Keith was just finishing up. He was out of his armor, back into regular clothes. His bayard had been put away and the training deck cleared for its next use. His hair was slick with a post-shower damp, and he blinked with a genuine surprise as the hoverlift doors opened and Hunk stepped out and almost into him, holding a thin metal tray between his hands.

“Hey!” Hunk beamed, holding up the tray and its contents. “Cinnamon roll?”

Keith just stared, first at him and then down at the tray, which was covered in several freshly baked pastries still steaming from the oven. He must have finished with his crying – his face wasn’t red anymore, his eyes back to their usual sharp clarity instead of tear-wet crystal clarity – but by the continued blank expression on his face, he didn’t know quite what to make of what looked almost but not entirely something completely unlike cinnamon rolls.

“Uhh,” he said.

Hunk explained.

“When I was little and I had to go visit relatives, my aunt would make cinnamon rolls. They were really good. _Really_ good. Like, the best in the world. No matter how homesick I felt, those always made me feel better. Eventually it got to the point where I looked forward to them so much I forgot to be homesick. That’s how I first learned to bake, when she showed me the recipe.” Hunk looked down at the tray, and shrugged. “The castle doesn’t have cinnamon, or…anything else really that you need for proper baking…but this is the closest I could manage with what I could scrounge. You know. Without involving food goo.”

He held the tray out a little closer. Hopeful.

“I thought…maybe…you could use one?”

The tension in Keith’s stance softened. He kept his eyes down, but he reached out, and carefully took one of the pastries off the tray, turning it over for a cursory look.

He held it up, and took a small bite.

Hunk watched for a reaction – maybe too eagerly – and lit up when Keith didn’t gag and immediately spit it out. In fact, he swallowed and took another bite. A bigger one.

Hunk beamed.

“She used to tell me: it’s not just food, Hunk. There’s an emotional connection you make with a good meal. It can hold memories. It can have stories. You associate certain foods with different places and things and people, and if those make you happy, then that feeling can stay with you the rest of your life. So when you put a smile on someone’s face because you made something nice for them, then—”

Hunk stopped.

Keith had sniffled again.

The smile drained from his face, and Hunk watched as Keith looked down to the half-eaten pastry still in his hand, his wrist trembling, his eyes briefly concealed by the forward fall of his hair. There couldn’t be any mistaking the drag of his arm over his face again.

A stab of nausea shot through Hunk’s gut.

“Sorry!” he blurted. “I’ll stop with the sappy auntie stories!”

He flailed, ready to snatch the pastry back, but Keith looked up at him.

He looked up, and he smiled.

“No,” he said, his voice just this side of breaking. The edges of his eyes were wet and he pulled in a shuddering breath, but the smile stayed. A real one. Small, but real. “These are…really, really good.”

He took another bite, and was already reaching for another one, still doing nothing to hide or even try to stop the fact he was crying again – happy crying – or the way his fingers trembled as he tried to pull another pastry into his fingerless glove.

This time Hunk did hug him. A little awkwardly, since he was still holding the tray, but he moved it to one side in his hand which freed his other arm to reach out, wrapping around Keith’s shoulders and tugging him in to where he fit right up underneath Hunk’s chin. Hunk half expected resistance, but Keith leaned in like the support of his own body gave out, trusting in Hunk to hold him up as he sagged, shoulders jerking in quiet, muffled hitches of breath against the collar of Hunk’s vest.

Hunk held him, strong and solid, letting Keith hide and be weak out of sight of the team for as long as he needed.

“Sorry,” Keith murmured at length, one hand balling a fist in the lining of Hunk’s yellow shirt, pulling it tight. “It’s just…been hard.”

“I know,” Hunk said, giving him a squeeze around his shoulders. “I know.”

That was all either of them had to say.

Except once Keith calmed down a little, and seemed to breathe easier. Hunk felt his lashes against his neck as Keith’s eyes fluttered open and closed, and the sigh of his breath on his pulse, as he nuzzled in a little closer. Like a cat making itself comfortable.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled.

And Hunk blushed.


	2. Chapter 2

“Get away from me!”

The change left Keith’s clothes in tatters. Patches of purple fur showed through the breaks where the seams had torn. Fabric stretched and snapped where his body had rearranged itself, bones elongating, joints shifting. The half jacket he’d always worn was even smaller on him now, and would have been comical with the sudden capris look of his pants under any other circumstances.

As it was, his long tail whipped violently behind him, and he ducked away to bring his arms up over his head, hiding the gold eyes, the fangs, the tufted ears, and the red hot tears of rage that dampened tracks down his face.

No one said anything, staring in collective horror and pity.

Except Hunk.

“Hey, c’mon man.” He stepped forward, touching one unafraid hand to Keith’s shoulder, not letting him flinch away. “We gotta go.”

Another explosion rocked the castle, as if illustrating his point. Allura turned away to shout some orders toward Coran about getting their defenses up, and Lance said something half-panicked and half-smart to back her up.

Hunk didn’t hear the details.

He was looking at Keith. Keith, who was trying to make himself as small and hunched as possible, holding his own arms, rubbing them in whatever empty comfort that provided. His face was turned away, focusing at some distant spot on the wall, and he was shivering under the ragged remnants of his clothes.

“Hey,” Hunk said, gently quiet, squeezing Keith’s shoulder.

Keith looked at him. That wide open, lost look that belonged on a frightened child more than the leader of Voltron.

Hunk took Keith’s opposite shoulder in his other hand. He pulled him up to stand, turned to face him.

“C’mon, Keith. This is bad, but…right now, if we don’t get out there and form Voltron, maybe it gets worse. And then we don’t get the chance to deal with it later.”

It wasn’t exactly a Shiro-worthy speech of inspiration, but it seemed to do the trick. Keith’s eyes cleared – gold eyes, no pupils…which made them a little hard to read, but the rest of his face was as expressive as ever – and his brows drew forward as his look hardened.

Keith caught his breath, and nodded, though he kept one hand over Hunk’s on his shoulder to keep him close as they turned together to make for the hangars, where the lions were waiting.

Then the badguys outside found out what it was like to have a pissed-off ace pilot Galra who also flew the black lion thrash them into defeat.

*****

After that, there wasn’t much anyone could do. The changes seemed permanent.

Or at least they didn’t go away for a long time after the battle was over, after Keith calmed down.

“We know Zarkon’s witch is an Altean,” Allura said, as Keith sat dejectedly on a table in the infirmary, letting Pidge update his biochemistry and rhythms into the ship’s databanks. “It’s possible she could have incorporated shapeshifting into some of her experiments.”

Allura winced the moment the word was out. But Keith didn’t seem to mind. He shook his head and even ventured to smile a little bit, faking a small laugh.

“I couldn’t be just a normal Galra hybrid, huh?”

He didn’t smile for very long, overly aware of the press of his new fangs. He ducked his face and turned his head to one side, the mane of black hair he still possessed falling forward a little bit to cover his eyes. The ears that poked through them drooped, laying back along his head.

Allura made a pained expression. She wrung her hands in front of her, squeezing her palms together.

“Keith…you know that you are still a part of this family,” she said, aware of a sense like tearing open old wounds from when they’d first found out he was Galra. “This doesn’t change that.”

“I know,” said Keith, very quietly.

He didn’t sound like he believed her.

*****

After that, things went back to relative normal. The universe didn’t stop needing to be saved, and there seemed nothing else to do than continue on with life and the mission the way they always had. Keith still lead the team, though his more visible Galra heritage made certain avenues a little harder to navigate when it came to rescuing people who had been conquered by the Galra Empire for so long.

They were all getting a lot better at diplomacy.

But then, Keith started to act a little strange.

Well, strange for him.

The moodiness got worse – though that could have been going on for a much longer time…it took a while for anyone to notice and even after they did, Keith’s teammates were reluctant to address the matter after all he’d been through – and he spent even more time down in the training deck eviscerating training drones.

He also seemed incredibly distracted, zoning out in group meetings and regular conversations, and would snap angrily at the most innocuous things. He also became suddenly very interested in an excessive amount of grooming.

Even Lance thought he was spending too much time in the showers.

When he said so, Keith attacked him, snarling rage and tackling him to the floor with such vehemence it took the entire team plus Kolivan to pull him off.

Keith apologized profusely, as shocked at himself as everyone else for his behavior.

When it happened again – Coran had changed the access codes on the training deck to limit Keith’s admittance…the castle was going to run out of internal resources if he didn’t stop with the robot massacres – Keith told them to lock him up.

*****

“He’s in heat,” said Kolivan.

“Whaaaaat?” Hunk sputtered, looking incredulously between him and Pidge. “Is that...even...a thing?”

Pidge shrugged, adjusting her glasses.

“That’s the best explanation for what I’m seeing on these diagnostics.” She tapped the glowing screen of a holographic HUD. “All his biorhythms are at least double their normal rate. Heartbeat. Respiration. Body temperature. And these hormone levels are waaaay off the charts—”

“So he’s super horny.” Lance made a face. “Not sure if that makes me feel better or worse about being tackled.”

Allura shot him a disapproving look for his crassness.

“It is a fairly common occurrence that affects some Galra,” said Kolivan, no inflection or emphasis in his voice. Speaking as monotone as ever.

“But…I thought…” Hunk cringed, a pang of hesitation for even asking. “Heats were a thing that only happened to girls…?”

“Says the guy who personally witnessed a sentient planet and real mermaids,” Pidge muttered.

“It is by no means universal,” Kolivan explained. “But there is a correlation between it and a talent for druidic magic.”

“So Keith can do magic too now? Aw, c’mon!” Lance exasperated.

Hunk clamped down on the urge to groan, and looked back towards Keith in the holding cell.

He looked absolutely miserable. So far he’d alternated between sitting glumly on the bench inside with his head in his hands, quiet and unmoving, and pacing restlessly back and forth around the cell’s tiny interior. And he kept scratching his arm.

Watching him made Hunk think of ancient depictions of the sort of zoos Earth used to have, when they were still literally just cages built onto cement blocks. He saw a video once of a tiger in one of those when he was little. An enormous tiger, locked into a six by six space. It never stopped pacing. Back and forth. For as long as the video went on. Hunk had run to his mother crying and had bad dreams about it for weeks.

It was just...so sad. Those poor cats.

Hadn’t Keith already been through enough?

“So give him some dildos and let him take care of it,” said Lance, with a casual shrug.

Pidge made a choking sound.

“Dildos?” Allura blinked.

“Ahhh. You know.” Lance promptly turned red as he made a few vague hand gestures, remembering his company. “Toys? Vibrators? Tools that let you...ah...get the job done by yourself...?”

“Oh. Yes. That may be a solution.” Allura hummed and tapped her chin as she thought, not even a blush. “Coran would know if we have any currently inventoried...”

”Of course,” Lance recovered with a sudden gleam in his eye. “If what he needs is a more personal touch, I could—”

“That would be inadvisable,” said Kolivan, giving him a sidelong glance. “Your leader is in an extremely agitated state. Galra can be exceptionally aggressive during these periods, and given your volatile history, should you set one foot in that room I would not find it beyond the scope of possibility that he would disembowel you inside of three ticks.”

“O…kay. Nevermind.” Lance held up his hands. “So…a prostitute, yeah? You have those around?”

“You will do no such thing!” This time Allura rounded on him. “That is our friend in there and I will not have him subjected to some _quiznaking cafarel_ who may be carrying who knows what kinds of diseases—!”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help!”

“We’ve got to do something,” Hunk said quietly, below the level of raised voices. He stood near the glass and watched Keith as he groaned and paced and kept scratching his arm. “He’s gonna hurt himself.”

“What about some kind of medication?” Pidge proposed. “Like a hormone counter? They had chemical suppressors back on Earth. Maybe we could come up with an equivalent?” She looked to Kolivan. “What do Galra normally do when they get like this?”

“Rut it out,” he answered.

Pidge looked like she was sorry she asked.

“Okay.” She adjusted her glasses again. “I’m going with the medicine idea.”

“I can see what the castle has in its memory banks concerning Galra biology,” Allura offered. “Perhaps we can find something, with Kolivan’s help. But how to administer it? I don’t think Keith will be any less hostile towards anyone he perceives as a threat.”

“I have a gun,” said Lance, miming the gestures. “You just rig me a round, open the door, and we tranq him. Mess free.”

“I suppose that could work—”

“No.”

Everyone looked at Hunk.

He stood where he had been the entire time beside the cell, one hand on the glass.

“You’re right,” he said, eyes still lingering through the glass. It was a two-way mirror. They could see Keith, but Keith couldn’t see them, which wasn’t fair at all. “That’s our friend in there. Keith’s already lost Shiro – twice! – and he’s still been holding this team together ever since. He’s the one who got this team together in the first place and led us to the lions. He’s rescued all of us _so_ many times, and no matter what the universe throws at us, he’s stood there right beside us and faced it without backing down. He picked a fight with Zarkon, for pete’s sake!”

“I wouldn’t really list that among the better decisions he’s ever made,” mumbled Pidge.

Hunk turned towards them, gesturing emphatically.

“My point is! We can’t just treat him like some wild animal. He’s always been there for us even when he didn’t have to be and following the example Shiro set can’t possibly be easy and – guys! – now’s the time we need to be there for him. We can’t let him down!”

He looked at them all one at a time, feeling his insides shake with the rush of adrenaline that he hadn’t realized came with impromptu public speaking. How did Shiro and Allura do it so casually?

“That’s right, right?” he fumbled, retreating back to a more comfortable headspace. “That’s what we’re supposed to do in these situations, right? Band together…or something?”

There. That was better.

It looked like it did the trick. The others looked between each other, exchanging worried and slightly guilty glances. Allura clasped her hands in front of herself and nodded, recomposing as she stepped forward.

“I believe some form of medication is our best course of action. Pidge. Kolivan. Let’s see what we can uncover.”

“And I’ll take it to him,” Hunk went ahead and offered.

Lance winced.

“You sure about that, man?”

“What? I mean, we could send Pidge, but we all know how scary she actually is. I’m, like, the least threatening one here.”

“I dunno, man. You’re pretty scary when you don’t hold back.” Lance rubbed his chin at the memory. “I seem to recall being thrown around and slammed up against walls _while we were under water.”_

“I don’t…remember doing that…” Hunk looked again towards Keith in the cell. He’d stopped pacing, back to being curled up small in the corner, which Hunk didn’t believe for an instant was any improvement. He thought back to the training deck, and catching Keith crying. He remembered how small and vulnerable he’d looked then.

It was still…

Hunk took a deep breath.

“I’ll go,” he said again, with a gravity that wasn’t going to allow any argument. “I think…it’ll be okay…”


	3. Chapter 3

Hunk didn’t think it spoke very well of Alteans that they had holding cells in what was supposed to be an infirmary.

Maybe they were meant for containment? Like an isolation ward. Quarantine. Hospital beds back on Earth came with restraints, after all. Just in case. It didn’t mean they had to be used for nefarious purposes…

Either way, he supposed it wound up being a good thing, since it meant they could keep Keith under observation and close to the medical bay at the same time.

Hunk made sure to knock before he went in. There wasn’t much point – the door had an air-tight seal that had to depressurize before it would open…it made a lot of noise – but it seemed the polite thing to do. He wanted Keith to know he was coming.

The door slid open, and Hunk leaned just far enough inside to glance around, ready to duck out again if his view suddenly became full of angry purple cat. But Keith was still on the opposite side of the cell, curled up small on the bench, his arms to his chest and knees drawn up against them and ears flat and tail curled around his feet.

He looked small, and frail, and absolutely miserable.

And he must have really been zoned out if he still jerked with a start when Hunk spoke.

“Hey man.”

Keith gasped, and his eyes shot up to him, wide and glassy. For a moment they were blank, expressionless gold, until he blinked and a spark of awareness came back into them.

Keith drew in a breath between his teeth and sat up a little straighter against the wall, pressing himself back into the corner.

“Oh. Hey,” he said. He sounded exhausted.

“How you feeling?”

“Like I’m losing my mind.”

The tired frankness of his answer actually made relief ease through Hunk’s shoulders. It meant Keith was at least feeling like himself enough to be honest.

Keith grasped the tip of his tail and wrung it between his hands as Hunk stepped inside, letting the cell door swish shut behind him.

“How’re the others?” he asked, low and without energy.

“Fine,” said Hunk, careful to keep his voice quiet as well. It didn’t take much to fill the tiny cell. “I mean…tired. Worried about you.”

Keith turned his face away. Hunk could see the wrench in his expression. Guilt piled on top of wretched misery. Of course it would weigh on him that he was worrying his teammates. They all had a lot to deal with without their acting leader having a case of the kitty crazies. And Keith had enough to deal with without feeling like he was letting everyone down and being a failure and Hunk could totally understand the frustration of your own body turning against you and acting in ways you barely understood, let alone wanted…

He stepped closer, that look on Keith’s face tugging at his heart.

“Hey! Ah…Pidge and Coran whipped up a little something for you.” Hunk forced a smile. He tried to sound upbeat as he lifted his hand to show Keith the vial. “It’s…well, some kind of medicine. It’s supposed to counteract the hormones making you feel this way. I mean, there isn’t really a surefire way to test it right now, so it might not work. But at the very least it should dull the symptoms and Pidge thinks there’s a good chance it could even knock you out so you can at least get some sleep while this thing is—”

In a blur too fast for Hunk to trace, Keith vaulted himself up from the bench and snatched the vial from his hand. He bit off the cap and downed it in one gulp.

Hunk reeled.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to—! Oh. Okay. You already did.”

Keith wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, and threw the empty bottle across the room. It clattered with a hollow, plastic sound before settling into a corner.

“Thanks,” he murmured, with a noncommittal sound.

“Oh. Ahh…don’t mention it.” Hunk watched him warily, in case he needed to flee the room. Pidge had warned him that they had no way of knowing just what sort of reaction Keith would have to the medicine. He was only half Galra, after all. Or…some kind of hybrid? They still weren’t sure. Chances were just as good that Hunk might have to make a lunging catch if Keith suddenly passed out from the stuff.

Keith noticed him watching.

His eyes darted away. He turned his head, briefly, a lock of black hair pulling off his neck to curl just around his ear.

“Hunk?” he said, even more quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

“Oh. It’s…really…okay—”

“No, I mean…” Keith shook his head, shutting his eyes briefly tight. Like he was clamping down on something inside. “I really mean it. Everything you’ve done. These last few months. You’ve been a rock.”

“It’s nothing. Really—”

“I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. I mean…” Hunk shrugged, spreading his hands. “I don’t know what else I would have done? We’re all in this together. I mean, right? So it only makes sense to—”

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Keith said. His eyes were still turned down and away, but his tail flicked behind him. Suddenly. To one side. “A lot.”

“Uhhhhhhh…”

One of Keith’s ears flicked too. Backwards, then forwards. He turned and finally slid his eyes Hunk’s way.

They had…a certain gleam to them that did unexpected things to Hunk’s stomach.

Hunk gulped.

“Uh oh…”

Keith started towards him, moving slow and…almost sideways? Like he was trying to sidle closer but not be too obvious about it.

Hunk didn’t move.

“You remember that time in the training deck?” he said, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “When you caught me…and then we…”

“Uhh. Yeah?”

“I liked that.” Keith looked up at him beneath the fall of his dark hair. The angle of it made his eyes look half-lidded, peeking out like they had a secret. “I liked it a lot.”

His tail swayed back and forth behind him like the hypnotic pattern of a snake. Hunk tried not to stare at it, and pushed out an awkward laugh instead. With no other plans of action in mind he reached out one hand, plopping it down on Keith’s head to rub between his ears.

“H-Hey, yeah! It was fun, wasn’t it? Good times all around! Yeah, nothing like a little male bonding to—”

Keith nuzzled up into the palm of his head. He reached up, and actually held Hunk’s hand there at his wrist so he could push against it a little harder, his purr growing louder. Hunk felt warm vibrating breath against his fingers and a tickle like soft whiskers. They curled almost of their own accord, giving something Keith to rub and scratch against as he moved his head, seeming to favor just behind his ears and along his jaw.

When they locked eyes again, Keith licked his lips. Predatorial and deliberate.

“I like you a lot, Hunk.”

Hunk didn’t have the presence of mind to make any sort of vocal response – except for maybe a small, strained squeak – as Keith slid right up against him. Pressed his long, sinuous body along his. The rumble in his chest turned into an all-out purr as Keith’s arms rose. Looped around Hunk’s neck. Keith nuzzled in right underneath his ear and made a little roll of his hips. One Hunk definitely felt through their clothes.

“You’re so warm,” Keith purred happily.

Hunk held himself absolutely still, not even breathing. He held his hands out and well away to either side, not coming into the slightest contact with any part of Keith as he shot a near-panicked look towards the panel of mirrored glass that made up one wall of the cell.

“Ahhhh, Pidge?” he stammered, as Keith started dry humping his thigh. “How long does it take this stuff to kick in?”

“No idea.” Pidge’s voice answered over the comm system. “Could be minutes. Could be an hour.”

It sounded like maybe Allura said something helpful to follow up, but Hunk didn’t hear it. Keith’s tongue had found his ear and hot breath fell on his neck, the barest tips of claws catching on his shirt and pants where Keith kneaded his hands.

“Hunk,” he whined, pleading breathily. “Why won’t you touch me?”

“Iiiiiiiii really don’t think that would be a good idea,” said Hunk, stiff as a board.

In more ways than one.

“But I want you to…”

Hunk’s eyes shot to the glass again. Nevermind that the others could all see them out there. Keith wasn’t in his right mind and it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of him when he was like this but Hunk wasn’t entirely sure this was a better alternative to being outright attacked that at least he could handle but Keith grinding against him like this and those soft brushes where fur touched his skin felt really good and the little breathy sounds Keith made and the way his mouth stayed open like that when he begged and Hunk was pretty sure he could feel each individual muscle Keith had pressing against him and quivering with the strain he must be feeling and—

“Hunk, _please_ …”

Hunk grabbed Keith’s wrist, lifting his hand and holding it up with a strength Hunk sometimes forgot he had. Keith made a delightful hissing sound between his teeth, ears laying back flat against his hair as Hunk walked him backwards across the cell. The back of Keith’s knees hit the bench and he dropped, Hunk pushing him down to sit. Keith’s tail curled in pleased response and the rest of him immediately opened: knees parting, shoulders dropping, tension flooded from his body as he surrendered beneath Hunk’s shadow.

Hunk took off his vest.

“Yes,” Keith rasped.

Hunk turned the vest around to drape across Keith’s shoulders, then pulled it tight, trapping his arms down against his sides. It took Keith a moment to register exactly what was happening, and by then Hunk was seated with him on the bench, his arms clamped down tight around him, holding him against his chest.

Keith blinked, and wiggled a little to test the integrity of his grip. It may as well have been iron.

“What’re you doing?” Keith growled.

“This is what you do when you need to hold a cat,” said Hunk, with a sound of recitation. “You swaddle them.”

Keith blinked again, with the dawning realization that he was trapped.

“…what...?”

He tried again to wriggle, a little more earnestly this time, but Hunk held on.

“Nope,” was all Hunk said when Keith hissed and gave him a vicious look.

Keith kept struggling, kicking his legs, twisting this way and that to try and break free with increasing fervor and hostility, but Hunk wouldn’t let go. If anything, he clamped down tighter around him, using the vest like a towel/blanket and even bringing up his legs to cross around Keith’s waist in a koala cling.

Keith wasn’t going anywhere. No matter how much he hissed and bit and snarled and ordered.

Hunk held on, and kept holding on, until Keith finally tired himself out – or the medicine kicked in…maybe both – and he fell asleep, a limp ball of exhaustion against him.

*****

Keith slept for a solid two days.

By the time he woke up again, the heat had passed. Things went back to normal.

Well, as normal as they ever were. It was back to forming Voltron and saving the universe. Keith was quiet and timid around everyone for about a week, no matter how many times they told him it wasn’t his fault and to stop apologizing. He and Pidge started up a side project right away for data collecting and research purposes, so they would all be better prepared for if – or when – it happened again.

Hunk and Keith were a little shy around each other. They barely spoke outside of a group setting and, even when they were in the same room, a moment’s eye contact was all either could stand before they had to look away.

Everyone noticed.

*****

Hunk woke up to the sound of someone at his door.

He got up, stumbling out of bed, tripped on the blankets but managed to catch himself and scramble up in time to get there before whoever it was decided he wasn’t going to answer.

He touched the control panel and the door swished open, revealing a shoulder just turning away.

“Nnnnghhhhaah?” Hunk tried to say, sluggish vocal cords and an even more sluggish brain finding it difficult to form exact words. He rubbed his eyes and squinted blearily until Keith’s face and caught-off-guard expression came into focus.

“Oh,” said Keith, his voice quiet and small. Maybe the slightest sound of preparation. “You’re awake.”

“Nnnh…” Hunk rubbed his entire face. Had Keith really expected him to be? “What time is it?”

“Uhh. Late?”

Keith turned back to face him, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. He was in his paladin armor. Hunk twitched a little with a jolt of adrenaline that woke him up the rest of the way, wondering if he’d missed some emergency.

“Uwahh…!”

He leaned far out into the hallway, enough Keith had to jerk back to avoid contact. Hunk looked one way, then the other. It was quiet. The halls were dark and empty. It…felt?...like the middle of the night.

Though he wasn’t entirely sure, he thought he saw Pidge and Lance duck back just out of sight around the corner of the next intersection. Maybe he imagined it.

Keith looked the same way, sighing exasperation at the sound of whispering conspiratorial voices.

Hunk frowned.

He was pretty sure he _hadn’t_ imagined it…

“Sorry. For waking you up,” said Keith, ducking his head and glancing back towards Hunk, who was still very confused. “Can we…go somewhere? Just us? I’d like to…talk.”

“Oh. Uhh. Sure?” Hunk stepped out, still yawning, and moved to follow Keith as he turned and led the way down the corridor in the opposite direction.

Hunk didn’t remember he was still in his pajamas.

They walked for…awhile. They wound up sitting together on a bench near one of the top of the castle towers, in a corridor that was almost never used, since it didn’t connect or lead to anywhere of particular importance.

Hunk didn’t know why, since it was placed perfectly opposite an enormous wall-sized viewing panel, which showed the slow drift of stars outside the ship as they hurtled through the vast reaches of space in constant panorama.

There were soooo many stars. Clusters of them of different sizes and brightness, all moving at different speeds depending on their relative distance. Sprawling nebulae of all colors filled some of the gaps in the black. Sometimes they even passed the streak of a comet.

Hunk couldn’t look at it all too long without feeling a twinge of motion sickness, but…it was pretty.

He and Keith sat for a while in quiet, just watching, before Keith spoke.

“I…guess…I just wanted to say…thanks,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers lightly clasped. “Again.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” answered Hunk. Then he paused. “For what?”

“For…everything. Everything you’ve done for me. I feel like…these last few weeks…” Keith rubbed the back of his neck again, pushing his hair up off the collar of his armor. “They’ve been hard. But…they would have been a lot harder. Without you.”

“Hey. Don’t mention it.” Hunk grinned, scratching his stomach. He liked wearing his PJs out around the castle like this. They were comfortable. “You’ve had a lot on your shoulders.”

“Did I really bite you?”

“Yeah,” said Hunk, holding up his arm to show off the bandage he still wore. “Just kind of a graze, though. Maybe it’ll make a cool scar I can brag about later?”

He grinned, trying to keep the matter light, but Keith flinched. He ducked his head back down.

“I’m sorry…”

Hunk didn’t tell him it was alright, because…well, it wasn’t. Saying it was alright made it feel like Keith’s struggle was no big deal. Like it didn’t warrant being taken seriously. Also everyone had been saying it was alright and reassuring him since it happened. He was probably tired of hearing it.

Also…if he didn’t believe it was going to be alright by now, he never would.

They sat for a while longer in awkward quiet, watching the stars.

“Is…that what you wanted to talk about?” Hunk prompted after a while, when he couldn’t stand the quiet anymore and he was losing the battle with himself to sit still. Fidgeting would have made things even more awkward.

“Not really,” said Keith. He was looking down at his hands, clasping them tightly together. “There was… something else…I wanted to ask you.”

The hesitant quiver in his tone didn’t escape Hunk’s notice. Hunk looked over at him carefully, really, _really_ hoping this wasn’t going to lead to another bout of having to restrain him.

“Yeah?” he prompted. Carefully.

“Back in the cell. When I was…” Keith swallowed hard. He shifted a little in his seat. “You know.”

Hunk nodded. He knew.

“When I said…when I told you to…” Keith took a deep breath.

Hunk mirrored his tension, realized he had stopped breathing, bracing himself. For what, he didn’t know.

“Why didn’t you?”

“…huh?” Hunk blinked. “Why didn’t I what…?”

Keith looked up at him, his eyes catching the light from the view panel and reflecting stars in their depths.

Hunk’s breath caught in his throat.

“I was begging you to touch me,” Keith said, with a soft breathiness in his voice that Hunk didn’t think he was doing on purpose, but was really unfair.

God, he was so pretty.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“Aaaaaaaahh…?” Hunk reeled, his mind backpedaling as it was flooded with a million excuses and justifications and reasons that no, really, he hadn’t gone back to his room that night and rubbed himself off three times while thinking about Keith. That was the furthest thing from the truth absolutely not never in a million years why would he even bring that up—?

But Keith just kept looking at him, like…like that way he did. That _particular_ way. That way that was so open and defenseless and sincere, with his brows drawn forward just a little. Just enough to crease his brow. His mouth open enough to show just the barest tips of his fangs.

It made Hunk think of some kid back on the playground who was about to be bullied, but kept looking up, hoping – believing – that this time the bully wouldn’t hurt them.

It was _really_ unfair.

“Aaaaaaa, I mean—why _would_ I do it?” Hunk finally managed, after several seconds of sputtering incoherency and wild gestures with his hands. “I mean—! That’s not what I meant. I mean, you weren’t…you had your…and then…that is…”

Hunk took a deep breath. He folding his arms tightly in front of himself and leaned back against the wall, eyes closed as he tipped up his chin. Adopting the stance of one stoic and noble.

Maybe that would help.

“You weren’t in your right mind,” he said. “Your judgement was massively compromised and there were other factors influencing your behavior. The thought of taking advantage of you or that situation made me very uncomfortable, and that is something I would. Not. Do.” He held up one fist to emphasize his point. “Hunk Manu’ia Ainalani Garrett does _not_ roll like that!”

Quiet filled in the wake of his proclamation, the ever-present background humming of the castle all the louder for it.

Hunk let out the breath he was holding, keeping his eyes rooted straight ahead when he opened them again, not sure what sort of reaction would be there waiting for him when he looked at Keith. Maybe he would be upset. Or mad? At least disappointed. Once again Hunk was showing a distinctive lack of backbone or initiative, and he would apologize all day for saying stupid things or having a weak stomach or being perpetually scared of everything around him, but he wouldn’t apologize for this. No. There was a line, man. One you Did Not cross. If that made Keith think less of him well then he was just going to have to deal and—

“Is that the only reason?” Keith asked, very quietly, interrupting Hunk’s train of thought.

Hunk blinked and looked aside to him, remembering he was there.

Heat suddenly filled his cheeks.

“Well, I mean…” He went on, a little more calmly this time. “Also the others were right there. I mean, they could see us. And you had just been medicated and I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to avoid any strenuous activity after that? Also there was only that one metal bench in the room and no way would that have been comfortable…”

Hunk stopped, because Keith had reached out and touched his hand, sliding their fingers together.

Hunk looked up at him.

Keith was smiling. It was that small smile. The small but real one.

“What about now?” he said, very softly.

Hunk’s stomach bottomed out, abandoning him.

“Uhhh…”

“I’m not under the influence of anything right now?”

Keith’s tail made a playful little flick, brushing over Hunk’s side. Curling against his thigh.

Hunk squeezed his hand. Mostly involuntarily, but he didn’t regret it. He kept holding on.

“I gueeessss…right now…would be okay?” he managed, with a nervous half-laugh.

Keith smiled, even brighter.

The smile faded, sobering by small degrees, as they both leaned in closer.

As kisses went, Hunk thought it was a pretty good one.

For a first try.

Keith’s lips were soft, and the fine grain of purple around his mouth carried a light, musky smell of fur and body warmth. His tongue was rough, but it slid against Hunk’s lips in a delicious way, just a nip of teeth, followed by Keith’s rumbling purr.

“Big man,” Keith whispered, playful against his mouth.

Hunk turned scarlet.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hunk…” Keith gasped, his voice broken and breathlessly raspy. “… _harder_ …”

Hunk’s cheeks flushed with heat. He could feel it waft over his shoulders and prickle all the way down his back. Keith’s groans came half muffled where he pushed his face down into the blankets. His fingers dug into twisted piles of sheets where he held on, claws catching and snapping individual microfibers. The length of his body was one long, straining line as he braced, pushed back in counterbalance to the shove of Hunk’s thrusts.

_“Please…”_

Hunk didn’t know if he could pound into him any harder than he already was without breaking something. The bed, if not Keith.

But that didn’t stop Keith from begging him to, splayed on his hands and knees in front of him, mewling and writhing and utterly shameless when it came to letting Hunk know what he wanted.

Keith…definitely didn’t hold back. In this or in anything else.

And Hunk…

Hunk was in some kind of heaven.

Keith was beautiful. Not just…it wasn’t _in spite_ of the fact he looked like some Galra catboy…it wasn’t a case of Hunk overcoming the species barrier and loving him for who he was on the inside, no matter how he looked outwardly… No, Keith was fucking hot.

Which was a thing Hunk had always kind of known? But not devoted an overly large amount of thought to. It was just one of those things. A fact of existence. Just like how Shiro was handsome and Lance was attractive and Allura was beautiful and even Pidge could be pretty cute and Shay and Coran and…

Well, now that he thought about it, maybe Hunk just thought everyone was attractive? All in different ways.

But Keith especially.

He’d seen him a few times, back at the Garrison. Before all of…this, Voltron, everything…happened. Everyone knew Keith was pretty back then. Hunk could remember the other cadets whispering and giggling about him in the hallways. He had that quiet-type loner thing going on which only made him mysterious and even more cool to watch from a distance, but his cactus personality quickly put an end to anyone’s notion that they had even a remote chance with him.

And once Lance decided that Keith’s cool-aloof-guy attitude was just another way to one-up him at…life, or something, that pretty much put an end to any interaction he or Hunk might have otherwise had.

Some people called him emo, but Hunk never thought so. Keith was just…quiet. And really awkward to talk to. Yeah he had a temper, but that was because Keith just felt everything so…so _deeply_ …not just anger or hate but also love and loyalty and gratitude and appreciation and Hunk thought that maybe if people just stopped judging long enough to actually see him they would realize the same thing and it was really a tragic waste to try to reduce anyone to a single stereotype and—

Keith did…something…with his hips. Something that felt like he was pulling Hunk even deeper inside and squeezing to keep him there. It yanked Hunk’s mind back to the present, and pushed a gasp out of him that made him buckle forward, whimpering his pleasure.

…yeah. Anyone who had told Hunk back then that he and Keith would have ended up here – let alone like this – not only would have gotten laughed at, but Hunk would have doubted their connection with reality for years afterward.

Lance could tease him later about being a furry. About liking Keith’s new look: the purple fur, tail, ears, all of it. But Hunk couldn’t bring himself to care.

And…really…how could anyone _not_ look at Keith and form the same conclusion?

Also – as if all that wasn’t enough – there was this…spot. Right at the base of Keith’s spine, where his tail arced up from his rear. It was like a button. If Hunk touched it, pressed there, or rubbed, Keith’s hips would automatically push up. His back would dip and Keith would make this wonderfully purring-moan sound, the reverberations of it going all the way through the core of him to where Hunk could feel it in his belly. It seemed…like…a mostly involuntary reaction? Hunk felt sweat trail down the dip of his spine and a nervous little flutter in his stomach when he first discovered it – completely by accident – and now his heart pounded with excitement and a dizzying thrill, wondering just how much he could abuse the knowledge.

Keith didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was pretty vocal in how much he liked it.

Very vocal.

Hunk was a little worried about being heard through the walls.

He didn’t let that stop them.

Sex was a lot like cooking. It was a process. Yeah, sometimes you could just throw everything you wanted together really quickly and all at once and it would turn out okay. (Sandwiches, for example. Or stir fry.) But with just a little prep time and extra care, some special attention to detail, and just the right amount of heat and application of spices, then… _then_ you could make something truly remarkable. Something you could share with other people and that they would thoroughly enjoy. Something that would put a smile on their face and satisfaction in their bellies and…

Hunk shook his head again.

He really had to work on this whole mind-wandering thing.

He dragged his hands down Keith’s back: long, lanky, leaving line trails in his fur. Keith arched and purred in automatic response, bowing his head forward to bare his neck as he rested his brow against the bed, panting into the pillows. Hunk could feel each of his individual ribs as he pressed over them. Their swell and fall as Keith breathed.

Keith was kind of scrawny. Hunk wondered how well he’d been taking care of himself out in that desert…

Keith mewled, flexing his hips back against him again when Hunk began to slow. Quiet but demanding with a feline insistence. He wanted more.

The cat parallels didn’t stop there.

Hunk leaned far over him, pressing him down with his weight. Keith hissed between his teeth with delight and tipped up his chin in the most beautifully presenting way, leaving the perfect opening for Hunk to reach around and scratch him there. Keith’s purr revved in response, and he opened his mouth, lips parting to invite Hunk’s fingers inside, pressing against the rough feel of his tongue as it slid between and around them, slick and wet between his fangs. Between his spread legs his dick flushed full and red from the furry sheath that now housed it, dripping wet against the sheets.

“Hunk,” Keith begged in that raspy voice as he was getting close, looking back over his shoulder with a heartbreaking plead in his eyes. “Please…make me come…”

Hunk’s throat went tight. His stomach bottomed out. (In the good way.) There was only a moment’s hesitation – more like deliberation – before he grabbed Keith’s arm. Twisted it up behind his back in a move Shiro had shown him once, and stopped thinking entirely as he drove into him. Hard and fast.

Face-down in the bed, held there and maybe getting a little crushed, Keith’s cries were lost with pleasure as Hunk put all his strength behind granting his wish…which was considerable.

Keith curled. His back arched as he came, hard, tail curling around Hunk’s arm and his ears flat along his hair, yeowling into the pillows.

Keith rolled over once it was done, looking up at him, a tousled mess of damp fur and panting breath. His body was limp against the bed and he came to rest in such a way that made one long, uninterrupted line of him from his shoulder to his hip. His tail flicked back and forth, brushing suggestively along Hunk’s arm, as if with a mind and motivation of its own.

Hunk wondered – in the distant part of him that could still think – if Keith did it on purpose. Posed like that. Disheveled and dirty and half-smiling in that sleepy, contented way with the back of one hand resting near his mouth, looking up at Hunk still with enough gleam in his eye that beckoned. Invited him for more.

Hunk kind of didn’t think it was on purpose.

“Now you?” Keith purred.

Hunk’s mouth dropped open.

He shut it again. Swallowing hard.

At Keith’s urging, he rose up over him. Keith’s gentle, trembling hands – still weak in the post-strain – reached out and looped around his shoulders, pulling Hunk down as much as they could.

Keith lifted one leg to wrap around him, hugging his hips.

They pressed their mouths together, Keith’s tongue sliding perfectly lewd and filthy over Hunk’s lips. Into his mouth.

“Fuck me, Hunk,” he whispered, with an ordering command that hadn’t been there before, but felt sure and steady now, despite his breathiness. “I want you to…”

Maybe it was Keith finding his sense of leadership? Or at least getting a lot more comfortable with giving other people orders.

Hunk whimpered, unable to help it.

He really was done for.

*****

“And what’s this one?”

Keith’s finger traced a line down Hunk’s chest, clawtip barely denting the dark patterns tattooed over his skin.

“Oh. That’s the ocean,” Hunk explained. “The circle patterns are the waves. Home was near the coast, so…yeah. The ocean was kind of a big deal.”

“And the triangles?”

“Iiiiiiiiiii don’t actually know. I just thought they looked cool. Maybe they can stand for something super awesome, like…shark teeth! Or something…”

They lay curled together on the bed, a warm and damp mess of contentment among the tangle of blankets and pillows. Keith draped himself half across Hunk’s chest and belly like a cat lounging in a beam of sunlight, long and lanky and limp, tracing idle patterns over Hunk’s skin as they caught their breath. Let their bodies cool in the still air.

Hunk bit his lip, steeling himself against the urge to shrink away when Keith hit a ticklish spot.

“And this one?” Keith made it to Hunk’s shoulder, tapping the dark ink design there. “It looks like a turtle.”

“It is a turtle.” Hunk paused. “Because turtles are awesome.”

Keith laughed a little, and lay his head back down to rest against Hunk’s chest, alternating between setting his weight on his chin and nuzzling in along his cheek, listening to the sound of Hunk’s heart.

Hunk kept one arm around him and pulled him in tighter the one or two times Keith shivered, knowing he put out a lot of body heat.

For long stretches of time, they were quiet.

Sometimes Hunk dozed.

“I thought about getting a tattoo,” Keith mumbled. “Sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

“I guess it’s a little late now…”

“It’s not too late.” Hunk brushed a hand through Keith’s hair. He moved his palm down to Keith’s shoulder, examining the pattern of his fur and he combed it with his thumb. “You’d just have to shave…”

Keith hummed. Amused.

“You might have to shave a _lot.”_

That made Keith laugh.

“What would I even get?”

“I dunno.” Hunk smirked, offering him his very best grin. “You could get a lion?”

Keith rolled his eyes.

“Subtle.”

“No, really! A stylized lion. You could even make flames out of the mane…oh man, it would look _awesome_ …”

Keith laughed. It was the quiet, gentle laugh that somehow carried a great intimacy. Nevermind how it combined with a look up towards Hunk of the most genuine affection.

Maybe because Keith didn’t laugh very often.

His tail kept flicking, even long after they’d settled and ended up rearranging to pull the blankets over them. Hunk watched it, the movement automatically drawing his eyes no matter how long it went on in the otherwise metallic stillness of the room.

“Sorry,” Keith mumbled, eventually reaching down to grab hold of it. Holding it close to himself so it would stop.

“No, it’s okay,” said Hunk. His eyes remained trained intensely on him, his lips pursing to one side, hovering on the edge of saying something else.

Keith noticed.

“What?” he breathed.

“Sorry. Can I just…?”

Hunk reached out with both hands, plopping them around Keith’s ears to squeeze and rub against his palms, massaging around the base where they met Keith’s hair.

Keith just blinked at him.

“Sorry,” said Hunk, though he didn’t stop. “But I’ve kinda been wanting to do this for ages. I mean, you have kitty ears and they’re just so soft and fluffy and cute…!”

Keith looked briefly…confused. But then he smiled.

He curled in close, and let Hunk pet him as long as he wanted.


End file.
